


Irak-nahan

by xcourtney_chaoticx



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Character(s), Blood and Violence, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Psychic Bond, Psychic Violence, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, it's not heavy though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 04:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcourtney_chaoticx/pseuds/xcourtney_chaoticx
Summary: While on a simple diplomatic mission, Spock is attacked by an unknown force. It is up to Jim and McCoy to figure out who did it and why. The only issue is that there are plenty of suspects, but none of them are very suspect. It's a race, not against the clock, but against Spock's tolerance for the psychic pain he's being put through. Spock, meanwhile, is not only fighting the strange entity taking up residence in his mind, but also the feelings he has for his captain.(also titled 'Telepathy')More warnings inside.





	Irak-nahan

**Author's Note:**

> Title is Vulcan. Standard translation is 'Telepathy'  
> (Vulcan translation is from the [Vulcan Language Dictionary](https://www.starbase-10.de/vld/))
> 
> Written for the 2018 Star Trek Reverse Big Bang on tumblr! My artist was [anifanatical](https://anifanatical.tumblr.com/) and I'm so excited to have worked with her! You can find her piece [here!](http://anifanatical.tumblr.com/post/174517285380/my-piece-for-the-startrekreversebang) :)
> 
> Warnings: blood and violence (One section is fairly graphic; look for the word ‘lirpa’ and that portion will shortly follow, feel free to skip if it will trigger you), psychic violence and trauma, mentioned attempted genocide and historical trauma

The grand hall is full of activity, thrumming, buzzing. Beings from all over the surrounding systems have converged for this banquet, one being thrown in the Federation’s honor, and Jim and Spock are the representatives of the Federation.

The planet of Esholla is the economic and political powerhouse of its system and of the chain of alliances it belongs to within the surrounding systems, as well. To bring Esholla to the Federation would likely bring all of its allies, adding greatly to the Federation in terms of resources, diversity, and commerce. It’s integral that Jim and Spock make a good impression. That can sometimes be a difficult task on Esholla.

Any potential ally is invited to an enormous party with all of Esholla’s current allies. It’s essentially to ensure that any potential ally is ready to also commit to being united to all of the other allies, as well. Esholla is known for their loyalty to their associates and for not allying themselves with anyone whose morals and ideas are inherently counter to their own. Thankfully for the Federation, they line up quite well, and Jim doesn’t foresee any difficulties at all.

He and Spock stick close together. There are many species here with inherent and powerful psychic abilities, and Jim simply wants to be sure Spock is alright. It was only a month ago that Spock underwent his _pon farr_ and suffered through the _plak-tow_ or blood fever, all of which weakened his psychic barrier. _It’s also been a month since he thought he killed me._ That emotional shock is certainly still affecting him, and so Jim simply wants to be sure that the psychic species aren’t accidentally hurting him in any way.

They’ve been here for only an hour now, and Spock seems to be fine. Despite their adamant request for Jim and Spock to wear a costume of some kind, the Eshollans have been exceptionally gracious hosts, food out for all possible diets, including Spock’s vegan one. Their desire for everyone to wear some kind of costume related to their homeworld was easy to manage. Jim and Spock are both wearing loose-fitting clothing in a mix of Terran and Vulcan styles, all pulled together by the new ship’s historian. Jim is arrayed in warm colors of red and gold, while Spock’s cooler complexion is complemented by a variety of blues. _Not that I spend significant time thinking of Spock’s complexion, of course._ Spock, however, does look exceptional in blue. _Stop that, Jim._

Their hosts, the Eshollans, are an interesting people. They’re descended from a purely aquatic species, and Jim thinks this is maybe what humans could have looked like if the dinosaurs didn’t happen in between the fish that first walked on land and primates. It’s an interesting thought. They’re bipedal, four-limbed, with a long, fleshy tail, and their heads are covered in a sizable fin that sticks up a bit like a mohawk. They have three genders, each differently colored and all depending their reproductive capability, rather like birds on Earth.

While the Eshollans who lay eggs are brightly colored but plainly patterned and with small, plain headfins, the ones capable of fertilizing the eggs are vividly colored and patterned, including their headfins. Caretakers are the most interesting. Capable of neither egg-laying nor fertilizing, they are given the task of taking care of all the young in large communal crèches. Their colors are plain, but their headfins can be very bright, and some of them are capable of reproduction but choose not to. Jim finds them the most fascinating, wants to know more. All three groups are seen as equally integral to society, something that Terra occasionally still has to work on.

Spock is currently deep in discussion with the Qoeter, beings nearly eight-and-a-half feet tall that wear (or look like they are wearing) thick cloaks in vivid black-and-white patterns. They seem extremely secretive about themselves, but they’re happy to discuss scientific discoveries. _At least, I think they’re happy. I can’t see their faces. I don’t even know if they have faces._ The Qoeter are also powerfully psychic, which is why Jim has yet to leave the conversation even as it increasingly goes above his head.

“This is the Captain Kirk of the Federation of Planets, that is correct?”

Jim turns. The being speaking to him is an Obrillon, humanoid, skin a deep purple, two catfish-like barbels present near the mouth, large ears that stick out almost shoulder-width. Like all Obrillon, xe has ornate designs tattooed under the eyes and over the chin, and xe has no hair save for a trio of thin braids that wrap around xir head. Jim is still getting used to the blank eyes without pupil or iris.

“Yes, I am Captain Kirk. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?” Jim smiles.

The Obrillon does not smile, but Jim isn’t offended. A highly psychic species, they express no emotion outwardly, instead project how they are feeling to whomever they are speaking to. His eyes are briefly drawn to the teal feathers tucked behind xir ear.

“This one is called Illiyoni. It is an honor to be speaking with Kirk now. How does Kirk find the planet Esholla? How does Kirk find the feast in the Federation’s honor?” xe asks.

“It’s wonderful. I’m enjoying it very much. The company is pleasant and the food is delicious. How does Illiyoni find it?”

“Illiyoni also finds it… enjoyable. The feasts of Esholla are always such a way. Always good food. Always good company. May this one inquire as to Kirk’s companion?”

Jim feels his heart flutter in his chest at hearing Spock referred to as his companion, beckons him over, feels his heart give another thump at the sight of Spock walking over to him.

“Illiyoni, this is Spock, first officer of the USS Enterprise, the ship we came on. Spock, this one is called Illiyoni, of the Obrillon.”

Spock politely inclines his head, a gesture Illiyoni returns. Xe asks Spock the same question as Jim, and Spock replies, “I am quite enjoying the conversations on scientific endeavors. I have just concluded a most fascinating discussion with one of the Qoeter delegation on psychic healing.”

“Yes, the Qoeter are most fascinating. Those ones have done much work in psychic healing and its effects on those with no psychic abilities,” xe explains, “Yes, it is most fascinating, indeed. These ones have been most interested in the work. Spock is of Vulcan, correct?”

“I am, though my mother is of Terra. Vulcans are somewhat psychic. We rely on touch telepathy and mental bonds formed between those who are intimate. Otherwise, our thoughts cannot be communicated to other parties.”

“Perhaps these ones may speak on Vulcans and the Obrillon. These ones have some similarities and many differences. This one has heard the Vulcans engage in psychic healing also.”

“Not in the same capacity as the Qoeter or the Obrillon. Again, such healing is limited to touch, though Vulcans are able to enter a sort of trance in order to heal one’s own injuries.”

“Please, my colleague is here, that one called Lluillyn. That one is a healer and would be interested to speak with Spock.”

“And I would be interested to speak with Lluillyn.”

Spock and Illiyoni excuse themselves, much to Jim’s consternation. Jim is pulled into a conversation elsewhere, with one of the delegates from Qostrarth, who look like featherless, long-necked birds, almost like raptors. (As if their very large teeth weren’t intimidating enough, they have four arms and four eyes.) Still, he finds much to talk about with the two delegates, Tuqosto and Asti. _Once you get past the scary aspects, they’re pretty nice folks._ They talk about farming for a bit, comparing practices and kinds of livestock. The Qostrarth find horses to be absolutely ridiculous, something Jim is inclined to agree with after lots of experience with them, and he enjoys hearing of their equivalent, syantheia. Jim is having a grand time, and he hopes Spock is, too.

xXxXx

Spock is beginning to have a poor time. There’s a horrible headache beginning to grow at the base of his skull, throbbing and nagging, but he pushes it down. He can stave it off for a few hours more. _It is likely just from all the psychic energy in the room._ The events surrounding his _pon farr_ a month ago have left his defenses somewhat weakened, and fending off this much energy can be draining, especially when he’s been trying so hard to build his walls back up. _I must not think on that right now._

Illiyoni and Lluillyn are fascinating to speak with, however, and he is loath to leave the conversation. Lluillyn in particular has some interesting theories on psychic healing and psychic trauma.

“This one studies psychic trauma as it affects large groups. It has been noted historically that some groups are affected by psychic trauma long after traumatic events occurred with their ancestors.”

“Yes, I have heard of this in other studies, though none of these studies have been conducted by species with psychic ability.”

“This is correct. This one has looked at many related studies for many years now,” Lluillyn says, “This has been this one’s area of study since this one’s schooling.”

Spock looks past Lluillyn for a moment, locks eyes with one of the Rebrillon contingent, a species closely related to the Obrillon though without psychic ability and a few differences such as lighter skin, some hair on the head, and longer and thinner ears.

Pain explodes through Spock’s skull as though someone has driven a spike through it. He clutches hard at his head, fingers tugging at his hair so hard it feels like it may rip from his scalp. It’s nothing, nothing at all compared to the pain inside his skull. He feels more than hears the scream rip from his throat, vocal chords vibrating painfully. His knees hit the floor hard. The agony is blinding, all-consuming, unending. He will never know peace or comfort again, just this pain and torment. It’s more than physical. He feels it in his chest and in his mind. He just wants it to end.

xXxXx

Jim looks to Spock only a split second before the Vulcan doubles over in agony, hands tugging so hard at his hair Jim is afraid he’ll pull it all out. He runs toward him. The scream Spock looses damn near stops him in his tracks. It’s a horrifying sound, guttural and primal and fearful. He’s at Spock’s side before he knows it, clutching at him to try and keep him upright, calling his name desperately.

“Spock? Spock, what is it? What’s wrong? What happened?” Jim begs, “Please, Spock, talk to me-“

There’s no response from Spock except a continued scream. He collapses, hits the floor hard, takes Jim with him. One of the Esholla hurries over, asks, “Kirk Captain, what is wrong with Spock Commander? Is he unwell?”

“I- I don’t know,” Jim replies over Spock’s anguished screams, “He can’t tell me! Lluillyn, do you know what happened? You were talking with him at the time.”

“This one does not know what happened, Kirk,” xe says, maddeningly calm, “That one Spock seemed to us fine and then was not. It was very quick.”

Jim swears quietly, pulls out his communicator, calls, “Scotty, two for immediate beam up. Call McCoy to the transporter room. Tell him to bring a hoverbed and a sedative for Spock.”

“ _Aye, cap’n._ ”

A few short seconds later, Jim feels the tingle of the transporter, and with a quick apology to the Eshollans, they’re gone. The transporter bay is comfortingly familiar, but only for a moment before Spock lets go another scream, this one hoarse and painful sounding. Scotty comes running from behind the console, worry clear in his expression.

“Cap’n, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Scott. I’m hoping McCoy can figure that out. Where is he?”

“On his way. I called down myself and told him to come as soon as possible.”

The deep brown eyes are full concern, his thick brows knit. He reaches out and rests a hand on Jim’s shoulder, gripping gently. _He’s a good man, Scotty… a good man._ Jim waits impatiently for McCoy, needs him here, needs his guidance and calm. In the meantime, he just holds Spock, trying to project comforting thoughts to him and hoping it’s enough to help.

xXxXx

It’s blindingly white, painfully bright. Spock can barely move. Everything hurts: his brain, his chest, his heart, his limbs, his throat. He breathes raggedly. Somewhere, faintly, he can hear Kirk speaking, calling his name, but he can’t respond. He can’t do anything. It hurts.

xXxXx

“What in blazes happened to him?” McCoy shouts as soon as he enters the transporter room, “His pre-mission checkup was fine! Man was fit as a fiddle when he left, Jim!”

“Bones, I don’t know! He was fine! He was talking with some of the Obrillon and then- he just- just started screaming and collapsed!”

Compassion and sympathy flicker through McCoy’s vivid blue eyes and he’s all business again. He gently pushes Jim out of the way, he and M’Benga getting to work checking Spock over. Spock twitches and whimpers every time they touch him. Jim watches helplessly. _There’s nothing I can do to help. Nothing…_ Scotty kneels beside him, equally helpless, also afraid for a friend and fellow officer. McCoy and M’Benga talk among themselves, speaking in low tones, exchanging words Jim can never hope to understand. _I need him well again._

It feels like hours pass before they load him onto a hoverbed and take him to the medbay. For a long moment, Jim doesn’t move. He can’t. He just needs a minute to regroup, to think of a course of action, to figure out how he can help. Scotty stays by him, a comforting presence. Closing his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, Jim starts to rein in his emotions.

“I’m going to check on Spock,” he tells Scotty, “and then I need to beam back down to Esholla and figure what the hell happened to my first officer.”

“Aye, sir. You let me know how I can help.”

“I will, Mr. Scott. Thank you.”

Scotty stands first, offering Jim his hand to help him up. Jim stops by his quarters to change into his uniform, its familiarity comforting him slightly, before heading to the medbay, knowing McCoy and M’Benga need time to check Spock over.

“Tell me something, Bones,” Jim says when he walks into medbay.

“Well, I dunno what in the hell ya want me to tell ya, Jim. We don’t know any more than you do.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a thing.”

“I suppose that isn’t entirely true,” M’Benga speaks up, “I have been able to locate the source of the problem.”

“You have? Tell me. What is it?”

“It’s psychic. Someone or something down on Esholla projected a powerful psychic wave of some kind that is causing Spock great distress.”

“I would say ‘distress’ is putting it rather lightly, doctor. He’s in agony.”

M’Benga says nothing, clearly agreeing with Jim. Jim sighs, rubs his hands together, asks, “How is he now?”

McCoy responds, “We’ve given him a sedative and painkiller for the physical symptoms, but that doesn’t help the psychic symptoms.”

M’Benga agrees, “I’m afraid there’s nothing we here can do to help that here. We would need either a Vulcan healer or someone else specialized in psychic healing.”

“Many of the species present are psychic, so hopefully one of them will agree to help… In the meantime, I need to figure out why Spock. Why would someone there want to harm him? Why like this? Why during the party?”

“Find out quick, Jim,” M’Benga tells him, “Honestly, I’m not sure how much more of this Spock can take.”

Fear grips Jim’s heart, but he tries to fight it down, swallows hard. Even under heavy sedation, Spock’s face twitches with pain and fear. _He isn’t just hurting. He’s afraid. How do I know that?_ Jim doesn’t have time to think about that now.

“I need one of you to come with me to Esholla,” he says firmly.

“McCoy should go,” M’Benga says.

“I agree. Geoff here knows far more about Vulcan biology than I do. It’s better to have him here in case something goes wrong,” McCoy replies.

“Alright, come with me. Dr. M’Benga, keep us apprised of the situation here.”

“Of course, captain. I’ll call McCoy as soon as anything changes.”

Jim’s throat is tight, tighter than he wants it to be, so he only nods in response. Looking back to Spock, Jim lets himself linger only a moment more before quietly urging McCoy along to the transporter room. _I need you to be well soon, Spock. Please._

xXxXx

It’s cold. He feels so cold. His body aches from shivering and from the pain he’s been through. Everything still hurts, but it’s dark now. He doesn’t know what’s up or down or sideways, but at least the light is no longer stabbing him in the eyes. Kirk’s voice is still faint. The thought of Kirk calms him somewhat. His mere presence has been a balm many times before and it is now. Yes, the thought of Kirk calms him, so he thinks of Kirk, tries to picture his handsome face.

He stands on Vulcan. The sun blazes above, the air dry and hot. It’s familiar. It’s his home. He should be comforted by that, but he isn’t. Instead, he is gripped by fear. The last time he was on Vulcan was in the midst of his _pon farr_ , the _plak tow_ burning through him, his mind a haze of lust and rage. None of the others are here that were present at the _kal-if-fee_ as they were before. He is only here with Kirk now, the _lirpa_ in his hands. The blade gleams in the sunlight, the edge sharp, heavy in his grip.

He blinks, and Kirk lay on the ground, the red sand soaking up redder blood. His chest is sliced open enough for Spock to see the final beats of his heart, the organ pumping and then not. It’s viscerally disturbing. It shocks him to his core. Kirk’s usually warm eyes are blank and cold.

Spock squeezes his eyes shut, fingers gripping his hair again. _This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real._ Kirk lived. Yes, Spock had cut him slightly with the _lirpa_ but he hadn’t killed him. **_But you thought you did. Remember how that felt?_**

The presence is foreign. Spock has never felt it before and it terrifies him.

_Please… please leave me alone. I beg of you._

There is a pause.

**_No._ **

xXxXx

“Please, tell us how Spock Commander is doing?” the head Eshollan, Vaiyl, asks.

“As of right now, not very good,” Jim admits, “Vaiyl, this is he McCoy Doctor, my chief physician. McCoy, this is ve Vaiyl Lawbringer, head of the Eshollan diplomatic corps. Lawbringers are rather like, uh, senators and the like. It’s the closest the translator can get to the meaning.”

“I understand. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vaiyl Lawbringer.”

“And you, McCoy Doctor. Please, Kirk Captain, if there is anything we can do to assist, you will let us know. We do not like to see the suffering of other beings.”

“Perhaps you can start now. What species here are psychic?” McCoy asks, “Another doctor and I determined the cause of Spock’s sudden illness is psychic in nature, so that means someone here projected a wave of psychic energy powerful enough to incapacitate him, and they might’ve done it on purpose.”

“On purpose? McCoy Doctor, everyone here is an ally. They have no reason to harm Spock Commander from the United Federation of Planets. He has done nothing wrong, and all our allies feel strongly as we do about harming innocents.”

“Well, it could be that someone doesn’t want to join the Federation or maybe there’s a spy here among the ranks. All I know is what the medical readings told me, and that’s that the root of everything wrong with Spock right now is psychic.”

“I will obtain for you a list of all the psychic species in attendance. My assistant, Freteri Aide will bring it now. They are most efficient.”

Freteri arrives quickly as promised, bearing a PADD with a list of attendees, saying, “Kirk Captain and McCoy Doctor, these are the attendees with full psychic ability that would be capable of inflicting such an attack… although morally, we think none of them capable.”

“Thank you, Freteri Aide. We’ll keep that in mind… I notice the Rebrillon aren’t on this list. Aren’t they closely related to the Obrillon?” Jim asks.

“Correct, they are related but the Rebrillon are not psychic.”

McCoy gives a little grunt, reads over the list and characteristics, says, “I think the… Qoeter, the Obrillon… the Eigantu, and the… Slolahiri will be our best bets, Jim. We’d better get started.”

“I agree… Vaiyl Lawbringer, could you help us call in everyone we need to speak to? We would be grateful for the help,” Jim says.

“Of course. We are happy to help.”

McCoy speaks up, “Not to be rude, but simply to cover all my bases… I notice the Eshollans aren’t on here. Aren’t you all psychic?”

“To a point, and not to this level. Esholla are mostly touch telepaths. There are rare cases where we can transmit simple thoughts without touch, but no Esholla is that powerful, I can assure you.”

“Like I said, just wanna cover all my bases. Where should we start, Jim?”

“Well, Spock was speaking with Lluillyn at the time, an Obrillon, so I suppose we should start there,” Jim replies.

Lluillyn and Illiyoni are waiting in a small room, still as plush and well appointed as anything on Esholla, neither showing any outward emotion. Somehow, Jim can feel… something from them, like they feel sorry for Spock and are projecting it outward.

“Illiyoni, Lluillyn… this one Kirk is sorry we must meet again under such circumstances,” Jim tells them, “Please, let Kirk introduce you to this one called McCoy, our ship’s doctor.”

They incline their heads in greeting, Illiyoni replying, “These ones are pleased to meet McCoy. Kirk will please tell these ones how that one Spock fares. Is Spock well?”

“I’m afraid not,” McCoy replies and explains to them what happened with Spock and what he and M’Benga found during their tests and inquiries. The two Obrillon listen carefully, not jumping in, waiting until McCoy is done speaking.

“That is most interesting, McCoy,” Lluillyn says, “and most unfortunate. This one enjoyed speaking with Spock and is saddened to hear that one is in danger.”

“What were the two of you speaking about when he fell ill?” Jim asks.

“This one’s research on psychic trauma and its effects on later generations from the initial trauma,” xe replies, “These ones had a fascinating conversation on the subject.”

“Any groups in particular?”

“No. Simply the ideas behind this one’s research.”

“Are the two of you the only diplomats from Brill?”

“These ones are the only Obrillon, yes. The Rebrillon are from Brill, also,” Illiyoni answers, “but those ones do not have the level of psychic ability necessary to cause such harm to one as Spock.”

“Could anyone else have come? Someone who may not have friendly feelings about the idea of potentially joining the Federation?”

“Joining the Federation is beneficial to all of Brill. There have been no protests of any kind. There have been no threats of any kind. The Obrillon and the Rebrillon both agree on this course of action.”

Jim sighs heavily, scrubs briefly at his face.

_-Kirk cares for this one Spock… cares for this one Spock very much.-_

He looks up, doesn’t know which one directed that thought at him, sees only two impassive expressions. _Whichever one of you that was is right. I care for Spock very much, and I don’t what I’ll do if I lose him._ The Obrillon can help no more, though Lluillyn offers the assistance of a healer from their species to help Spock if needed, something for which Jim thanks xem. Once they leave, he turns to McCoy, asks, “Any news on Spock?”

“Nothing, but in this case, no news is good news, Jim.”

Jim gives another heavy sigh, and McCoy reaches up to grip his shoulder, says quietly, “He’ll be alright, Jim. Me and Geoff’ll make sure of it.”

“Bones, you shouldn’t make promises you don’t know if you can keep.”

“I can try my damndest to keep it, though.”

 _I wish I could have that kind of optimism right now._ Fear and worry knot his stomach as they next meet the Qoeter, the three towering and cloaked beings ducking through the doorway as they enter the room.

xXxXx

It’s an awful fight. He doesn’t want to fight, never wants to fight, yet here he is. The weapon is heavy in his hands. The blood is slick on his skin. He hears Kirk, hears him begging for his life, for mercy, for a quick death. Spock does not heed him. Kirk cries and screams as he dies, blood pouring from him in red rivers. He wishes he were numb to it. He wishes he would stop feeling the same pain, over and over, every time he kills this man he cares for.

It’s different every time. Sometimes it is quick. Sometimes it takes him a long time to die. Sometimes it is bloodless. Sometimes all the blood drains from him and spreads across the floor.

He looks up, looks out, sees so many James Kirks dead. They spread out from him in circles. Blank, brown eyes stare at him accusingly from all angles. The current Kirk screams his name, his voice trailing off as he finally dies. Spock finally releases his own scream. It’s almost as if he’s watching himself from the outside, like someone else is controlling his body.

**_Isn’t this enough? Won’t you leave us alone now?_ **

_How can I? I do not know who you are or what I have done-_

**_You know what you have done, Spock. You have threatened us. You will stop… or you will continue to pay the price._ **

_I do not know how to stop._

**_You will._ **

Another Kirk appears before him, this one naked but for flimsy, almost transparent trousers. Spock feels lust curl through his gut at the sight.

**_You want him. You want this one called Kirk. You have for some time now._ **

_Yes. I have wanted him. I have lusted for him. I have cared for him._

**_We know._ **

Kirk comes closer, his movements seductive and measured, Spock watching him carefully. He looks beautiful: muscular and thick yet still soft. Spock reaches out to touch him, to caress his face, to feel the softness of his skin, to enjoy all that he is.

**_Until you leave us alone… you cannot have him._ **

Again, as though Spock watches from the outside, his other arm comes up with a knife, one he digs into Kirk’s soft belly and drags up toward his sternum. This one somehow hurts worse because Kirk does not beg. He does not plead. Worse than that, Kirk smiles at him even blood fills his mouth and spills past his lips.

**_You will never have him. Never._ **

Spock does not recognize the scream that rips from his throat. It does not sound like anything that should come from a sentient being. The voice laughs.

xXxXx

“I dunno what to tell ya, Jim,” McCoy says once they complete their interviews, “Everyone we’ve spoken to seems to be telling the truth, and they all seem pretty horrified by what happened to Spock. We’re not any closer to figuring out who did this than when we beamed down.”

“There’s got to be something, something we missed, something we didn’t ask.”

“There isn’t, Jim. We asked everyone the exact same questions every time.”

Looking to the doctor, Jim can see the worry and fear in the clear blue eyes, knows he’s almost as worried and afraid as Jim. McCoy gets to his feet and comes to Jim’s side, settles a hand on his arm, tells him softly, “I know you love him, Jim-“

“Bones, don’t be ridiculous-“

“C’mon now, I’m a doctor. I’m not stupid. I can see how you and Spock care for each other. I know what love looks like.”

“I suppose denial won’t do me any good.”

“Absolutely not,” McCoy smiles.

A moment passes as Jim lets everything wash over him. _It’s kind of nice to have someone else know._ He usually plays everything close to the chest when it comes to things like this, emotions and relationships and the like. McCoy can be trusted, though.

“I-… I don’t-… I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Bones.”

Jim’s voice is quiet, as if speaking the words too loud would make them true. McCoy’s communicator beeps.

“ _McCoy, it’s M’Benga. Spock’s getting worse. His pain readings have gone up to the point where painkillers aren’t working, and even our strongest sedatives are starting to wear off too quickly. I’m worried._ ”

Fear chokes Jim’s throat. He almost can’t breathe. McCoy slips into his professional mode, replies, “Tell me the readings, Geoff.”

They share information, but Jim just blanks out. Blood rushes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize they’ve stopped talking until McCoy comes to him.

“We don’t have much time, Jim. We’ve got to figure this out now.”

Jim sighs, scrubs at his face, thinks for a minute, tells McCoy, “Let’s call on Lluillyn again, have xem send us that Obrillon psychic healer xe told us about.”

“I think that’s certainly a good start. C’mon…”

Lluillyn, thankfully, is still able to help them, the healer coming quickly, xyr name being Shynyyl. In addition to the tattoos borne by all xyr species, Shynyyl also has a set of ritual piercings, one at the center of xyr bottom lip and through what in humans would be called the septum.

“This one Shynyyl is ready to heal that one called Spock. This one has heard what happened, and this one feels sadness for that one,” xe says.

“Thank you, Shynyyl. These ones Kirk and McCoy thank you. Please, McCoy is one of our healers. He’ll explain to you what happened.”

“This one has heard what happened. Please, these ones will take this one to Spock. This one must begin the healing as soon as is possible.”

McCoy ushers xem onward to the beam up point. Scotty greets them all in the transporter room, watches McCoy and Shynyyl pass by.

“Cap’n… how’s Spock?” Scotty asks quietly.

“Not well, apparently,” he admits, “Walking with McCoy is one of the Obrillon… a psychic healer. Hopefully, xe’ll be able to help him.”

“I hope so too, cap’n. We all do.”

Jim manages to give him a small smile, squeezes his hand in thanks. _I have to believe him. I have to believe McCoy… and I have to believe in Shynyyl._ Jim hurries after McCoy and Shynyyl, praying they won’t be too late.

_-Have faith, Kirk, and all will be well. This one will heal your companion.-_

Shynyyl doesn’t look back at him, doesn’t break xyr stride, doesn’t break xyr conversation with McCoy. _I’m trying. I really am._

_-The trying is what matters. You love him.-_

_Yes… yes, I love him… and I’m afraid for him._

_-That shows you love him. This one will heal him, that one called Spock.-_

Jim almost cries with relief. He just wants Spock back. He wants Spock with him. He wants to tell Spock he loves him. There’s no more from Shynyyl, the small group simply moving down the corridor to the medbay, Jim’s heart pounding in his chest. _This has to work._ Shynyyl remains silent, but he feels something gentle in his mind, trying to soothe him. It almost works.

xXxXx

He has lost count of the bodies. There are too many even for him to count. Still, he does not give in. He will not give in. This nameless entity only wants power over him, and he will not cede the power.

**_Fool. You already have. Look what we have made you do to this, the man you love. Look around you._ **

Spock shakes his head viciously, desperate to rid himself of the voice, of the entity, of whatever has invaded his mind. The last Kirk he beat to death with only his fists, the man barely begging, just accepting the punishment as if he deserved it.

_Get out of my head. Get out!_

**_We will not. We will only leave when you finally leave us alone, once you stop threatening us._ **

_I have never threatened. I do not even know who you are._

**_You are a liar. You know you must die before we can be safe._ **

That is unexpected. _Die?_ He had never expected the entity actually wanted something from him. He assumed the entity just wanted to torture him. That it wants him to die is a new thought.

_How do you expect me to die?_

**_You will give up. You will simply give up your life and perish because of this ongoing nightmare._ **

_It is not real._

**_But the pain is. And the pain will continue._ **

Spock has no doubt of that, but he cannot give up. Kirk would never forgive him if he gave up his life in such a way. _I cannot disappoint Jim. I could never disappoint him._ Giving up is an unforgivable sin in Kirk’s eyes, and for Spock to give up with something as important as his life at stake…

_You will not win._

**_We shall see about that._ **

xXxXx

M’Benga, McCoy, and Jim all stand back from the biobed where Spock lay, only Shynyyl stepping close. Xe does not lay xir hands on him, instead holds them over his head, thumbs and forefingers making a diamond shape. The door quietly whooshes open behind them, and Lluillyn comes in, greeting them with a nod of the head.

“Lluillyn, you grace these ones with your presence,” Jim tells him.

“This one feels obligated to see this through, to ensure that one Spock is well. Shynyyl is one of Brill’s most experienced healers. Xe will make that one Spock well, this one can assure Kirk.”

“I appreciate your confidence,” he replies quietly.

_-Kirk is simply worried. That is understandable. It is always worrying when a loved one falls ill.-_

_Yes… Yes it is._

_-That one was ill not long ago. This one sensed that one had trouble keeping up a mental barrier among those attendees with psychic abilities.-_

_That’s correct. It was an illness specific to his people, but it did occur only a month ago, and it left his psychic defenses quite weakened._

_-That one Spock thinks very highly of Kirk… very highly. This one sensed Kirk as an undercurrent in all that one’s thoughts. These ones have not spoken of their love, but they should soon.-_

“This one Shynyyl would speak with that one Kirk. This one would bring that one into the healing,” xe says loudly.

Jim slowly steps forward, unsure of what will happen now. There’s an energy thrumming around Spock and Shynyyl, one that Jim can feel in his bones, in his blood, in his soul. Xe raises xir violet hands, holding one over Spock’s forehead, the other over Jim’s. He watches xir forefinger descend on Spock’s head, touching him just between the eyes, and he feels the same happen to him.

xXxXx

It’s dark. Very dark. Darker than anything Jim has ever seen before, even in the deep of space. He looks around, hoping there will be something there to break up the void. There is nothing. It is silence. Jim calls out. His voice echoes throughout, as if he’s inside a large box. A strange smell lingers in the air, coppery and thick. _Blood._ Jim swallows hard, his stomach rolling faintly. There’s nothing around him to be the source of the smell, though. Breathing through his nose, Jim starts walking in a direction he hopes will lead him to some answers.

**-Come no further.-**

Jim stops jerkily, looks around, can find no source. _Who could that be?_ He opens his mouth to call out.

**-You must listen. You must come no further.-**

_Spock. That’s Spock._ Jim starts forward again, desperate to find Spock now that he knows he’s here. _Please, Spock. Where are you? I need to find you._ Shynyyl isn’t helping. He can feel xir presence, but xe does nothing.

_-It is not this one’s place to help. This one Kirk must complete this task.-_

He doesn’t know where to go. There are no landmarks. There is no light. There is only the knowledge he’s heard Spock’s voice. _Spock is here. I’ve heard you, Spock. Please… Please, let me find you._

**-You must leave. You must go away from this place.-**

_I can’t! I need to find you and save you! Spock, I-_

**-You must leave NOW.-**

xXxXx

Jim gasps, jerks, stumbles. McCoy is by his side in an instant. Shynyyl seems unperturbed, as xir race always is, simply opens xir blank eyes and steps back from Spock, saying, “The energy harming this one Spock is powerful. It is ancient. As of now, this one cannot break it.”

“It is good then that this one has come bearing news,” Lluillyn says.

“News? News- What kind of news?” Jim stammers.

“It concerns this powerful energy,” xe replies, gesturing for Jim and the others to sit, “This one had not thought of it until recently, only after giving the problem much thought. It is the Rebrillon.”

“The Rebrillon?” McCoy exclaims, “But they’re not psychic! You said so yourself back on Esholla!”

“This one is aware of that, but this one had forgotten. The Rebrillon are closely related to these ones the Obrillon. Long ago, both races were one, but there was a war. Those ones the Rebrillon had skin a lighter color and wore more hair than these ones, and these ones’ ancestors thought to wipe those ones out. Much psychic torture and violence was inflicted on the Rebrillons’ ancestors, so much so that those ones lost the inherent psychic ability in order to protect xemselves.

“In this one’s research, this one discovered that those ones the Rebrillon retained a small measure of psychic ability, but only to be used as a weapon, as self-defense. When those ones sense a threat, those ones release a powerful wave of psychic energy meant to make the afflicted live horrible nightmares that will distract and disable xem, making xem unable to attack.”

“That doesn’t explain why xey attacked Spock. He wasn’t threatening,” Jim says.

“That one’s race was seen as a threat on a subconscious level. Vulcans used to be a violent and bloodthirsty race. Those ones the Rebrillon somehow felt that history and those one’s subconscious psychic abilities went to work.”

“So what can we do?” McCoy asks.

“Truthfully, it is this one’s opinion that this one Kirk is the only one who can save that one Spock. This one has sensed a strong connection between these ones. That connection may be enough to break through the trauma.”

Jim feels heat fill his face. McCoy’s blue eyes fix on him briefly before flitting back to Lluillyn, and he asks, “Well, how do we get Jim into Spock’s head?”

“That one Shynyyl has already done it. It is not difficult for a healer of that one’s level. That one can do it again.”

“Wait… I was in Spock’s head? Just now?”

“Yes.”

“He threw me out,” Jim says quietly, “He didn’t want me there.”

“This one will have to stay, will have to fight to stay. Kirk is the only one who can save Spock.”

M’Benga speaks up, “We should hurry. He can’t sustain this sort of pain and psychic trauma for long.”

Shynyyl beckons Jim back again, and this time he goes eagerly.

xXxXx

The light hurts. It’s painful, burning, blinding. Spock curls up against it, trying desperately to have cool, comforting dark, but he is denied.

_Spock? Spock, where are you? I need to find you!_

He groans low. _That is Jim… my friend… my companion… my t’hy’la…_ He longs for him, for his touch, for his smile, for his warmth. _This is a trick. It must be._ He is being tricked. The Kirks he’s killed have never called for him. They have never sought him out so vehemently. He wants to return the call but he cannot. Kirk will be killed again.

**-You must leave. You are not safe here.-**

_Why not? Why am I not safe, Spock? Tell me._

**-Because I will kill you. I have killed you many times, Jim.-**

_You haven’t. I’m alive. You’ve never killed me, Spock. You only thought you did on Vulcan. You could never hurt me._

**-You are wrong. Here, in this place… I have killed you many times, in many ways… horrible ways.-**

_Those were only images of me. I can get rid of them._

**-You cannot. No one can.-**

_I can try. Let me help._

Spock feels his touch and opens his eyes, the light not quite so vicious anymore. Jim ( _I ought to call him Jim_ ) seems to glow with soft light, yellowish and warm, far less harsh than the bright white that had afflicted him. Spock’s heart feels full to bursting with love for Jim. This is the real Jim, not one of the many Kirks he’d killed. His fingers tremble as he reaches for him, as they touch his skin. Tears fill his eyes. He caresses Jim’s cheek, desperate for him.

**My t’hy’la… My Jim… You’re here.**

_Of course I am. I had to find you, to save you._

He’s so earnest. He reaches out, rough fingers exactly mimicking Spock’s movements as they stroke over his cheek, tracing over his cheekbones and nose and lips. They touch each other with reverence, as if they never will again, as if they have all the time in the universe. It’s perfect.

_Come back with me, Spock, my dear… Let’s leave this place and go home._

**I would like that very much. T’hy’la… take me home.**

Still in sync, they lean in, their lips brushing, and a fierce joy takes over Spock’s heart, making it full and content. The nightmare he’s been living is forced away, and the only thing he knows is Jim’s love and Jim’s light and Jim’s warmth. Together, they go home.

xXxXx

Spock quickly recovers, something for which Jim is extremely thankful. The Rebrillon come to formally apologize for what happened, having not even realized what happened xemselves. Lluillyn explains further that it was the result of residual psychic trauma, long ingrained memories of pain and fear that forced a long unused portion of the mind to act. Spock is gracious as ever, accepting the apology while assuring xem he does not blame xem for what happened. The two of them take plenty of time to thank Lluillyn and Shynyyl for their help, and both accept it calmly.

Spock and Jim, meanwhile, have yet to talk about what happened between them in Spock’s mind. No one questioned them, and Shynyyl was appropriately tight-lipped. When they return to the ship after their meetings, Jim invites Spock to his quarters.

“You wish to speak with me, Captain?”

“Please, Spock… in here, it’s Jim. Just Jim.”

“Yes, Jim.”

“When-… When I was in your- your head a few days ago… to help you, to heal you…we-… Jesus, I’m not even sure what to say…” he stammers, rubbing his hands together.

“You are speaking of the… connection which saved me.”

“Yes. It was a very strong connection.”

“I think it was partially a result of the completion of the _kal-if-fee_ on Vulcan. My mental shields were quite low, and I fear I may have created a small bond with you.”

“Why do you use that word?”

“Which word?”

“Fear. Why did you say you fear that you may have created a bond?”

“I… I don’t know. I do not fear the link itself.”

“No, nor do I. In fact, I’m quite fond of it… and I’m quite fond of you, Spock.”

A green flush seeps into Spock’s face. Jim steps closer, desperate to reach out and touch Spock as he had then. Spock doesn’t move away.

“I am… very fond of you, Spock, fonder than I ever thought I could be,” he admits quietly, “When you were hurt and sick here… I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that I had to help you because if I’d lost you… I don’t know what I would’ve done. We do have a connection, Spock, a strong one, and I think that’s why you were able to form a bond with me. That bond allowed me to pull you out of that nightmare and bring you back. We need to acknowledge it.”

“And so we have.”

“We need to acknowledge what we said and did there. I’m willing to admit that I- I love you. Spock, I love you more than anyone or anything. The mere thought of you dying and being taken away from me forever was unbearable.”

“Jim… I… I share that sentiment. I have not yet told you of the nightmares I lived,” Spock says, moving to sit on the small couch and Jim sitting beside him, “There was an unseen force, some kind of strange entity that had complete control over me. It forced me to kill you, and not just once. I killed you many times, Jim, in myriad horrible ways. Each time I did so, I was afflicted with such pain-“

“It’s all in the past now,” Jim soothes, “It’s behind you. You never killed me. You could never hurt me, Spock.”

“I did. I have hurt you. I hurt you on Vulcan.”

“You weren’t in control of yourself, and when you thought you’d killed me, you snapped out of it.”

Jim speaks earnestly, from the heart. He sees Spock shaking faintly, a green tinge still in his face. Unable to help himself, Jim reaches up to stroke a finger over Spock’s cheek as he did a few days ago, as they did in each other’s minds. He murmurs, “I love you, Spock. I really do… more than I can say.”

Spock leans into his touch, and Jim opens his palm, resting his whole hand against Spock’s cheek. Something thrums in the air between them. Jim can feel warmth and love and so much feeling he could drown in it. It’s perfect. He continues softly, “These feelings… your emotions… they’re nothing to be ashamed of, Spock.”

“I should be able to control them. I am Vulcan-“

“You’re half-Vulcan. You’re also half-Human, and as such, you’re allowed to feel these emotions, and you’re allowed to act on them. Control is fine in public if you don’t want the whole ship to know,” Jim explains, soothing Spock by slowly stroking his thumb over his cheek, enjoying the way his eyes have slipped shut, “but in private… Spock, my dear, in private you should be able to indulge in them.”

xXxXx

Jim’s touch is soft and gentle and lovely. Spock leans into it, still exhausted from healing. It feels like they’re standing under a sunbeam, surrounded by warmth and light and happiness, and Spock doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to disturb the moment. Jim’s words wash over him in gentle waves. _My dear… I like that phrase… especially when Jim says it…_ The weariness begins to lift from his mind, replaced with a light joy. He feels pliant and comfortable.

“Yes, Jim. I agree,” he murmurs, “but as you well know, it can be difficult to override one’s training and upbringing, even in private.”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to help you. Please, Spock, with me… with me, I’d like for you to be honest and open with your emotions.”

Spock opens his eyes, looks into Jim’s honey-brown irises, realizes how close they are. They’re centimeters apart. They must have been inching closer to each other the entire time they’ve been sitting here. _The bond…_ They breathe in tandem, inhaling their own mingled breaths in a moment more intimate than anything Spock could imagine.

“I love you, Jim,” he says earnestly, bringing a hand up to mirror Jim’s, feeling slight stubble on his cheek, “I have for quite a long time now, but I thought I could force myself to feel otherwise… thought that would be the most appropriate course of action. I see now I was wrong.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Jim smiles.

“It is only logical to admit one’s faults.”

“Is it logical to tell someone you love how much you love them?”

They’re impossibly close, as close as they can be without their lips touching.

“Yes, most logical… though it would be more logical to show him.”

Spock closes the scant distance between them, pressing his lips gently against Jim’s. Lights shoot up his spine, sparking in his mind. Jim’s mind dances against his. Spock pours all his love into the kiss, into the simple touch of their lips, and Jim reciprocates. They’re surrounded by warmth and golden light. It almost feels like a dream.

“It’s real, Spock,” Jim whispers against his lips, “You’re not dreaming… and neither am I…”

He kisses Spock again, more passionately this time. Their tongues meet, searching each other’s mouth desperately, wanting to explore and memorize every millimeter. _I love him so…_ They lose themselves in each other, aware only of the other’s kiss and touch and love. Their minds reach out, each desperate for the other, innately knowing that’s where they belong. Lust rises up in Spock’s chest, and he isn’t sure if it’s his alone or if it’s Jim’s or some combination of the two.

When they open their eyes and break the kiss, Jim is straddling Spock, climbed up into his lap at some point, and Spock isn’t complaining. Jim presses little kisses all over Spock’s face, still eager for contact.

“I love you, Jim,” Spock tells him softly, hands cupping his cheeks, “I feel as though I have loved you forever when I know it has only been a few years. I care for you and fear for you and desire you. All that you are, _t’hy’la_ … I pray you willingly give to me.”

“I will, my love,” Jim replies gently, “and I hope you’ll do the same for me.”

Spock has no verbal reply. He simply pulls Jim in for another kiss.


End file.
